It’s autumn, it’s sunny, and it’s a Monday afternoon. Thomas*, a recent graduate, is now 13 months clean and living a good life in recovery.

He tells me that that we are in the same room, and this is the same chair, he sat on all those months ago when he had his initial assessment with one of our counsellors.

But today is different. Thomas’s life has changed a lot, and he is here to share his powerful story of what life was like being a gay man and living with addiction and trauma and how he found his way into recovery.

Isolation

“I had been living in the local area, and I was feeling isolated and just so very alone,” he explains.

“Being gay in my family and living in a small town, I already felt very alone, and I recognise that caused me trauma. I had this huge sense of isolation, and I felt like the wrong type of gay, like the black sheep gay as I’d never had a proper relationship.”

We know that addiction doesn’t discriminate. It transcends age, class, gender and sexuality.

However, research by the National Institute on Drug Abuse has found that sexual and gender minorities have higher rates of substance misuse and substance misuse disorders than people who identify as heterosexual.

People in LGBTQIA+ communities often face stressful situations and environments like stigma and discrimination, harassment, and traumatic experiences. Coping with these issues may raise the likelihood of a person having substance use problems.

Trauma

Thomas went to university at age 18 and found himself in gay bars and clubs and they helped him feel connected and less alone.

“They were absolutely intoxicating and hedonistic places and this was a lifestyle that completely consumed every fibre of my being.

“My Dad had left when I was in my early teens, but I don’t feel it was anything that set me apart from others. As I started to get older, my relationship with alcohol began to become unhealthy and was exacerbated by the places I could go to drink and feel part-of.

“I never drank because I enjoyed drinking, it was always to get drunk.”

It’s clear to me that Thomas is connecting with something deep and difficult to speak about as his voice slows down and becomes quieter, he tells me, “My Mum died, and it set off a chain reaction. I felt completely numb, something in my brain told me it was too much to feel.

“I moved to another city and realised that everything was inextricably linked. The new city had bars and clubs all close together and it was a very self-isolating environment, I found a job in a gay bar.

“I was in an environment where I had everything on tap and was able to drink and use to bury my pain.

Feeling part of something

“Everyone around me was drinking like me, we’d finish work and go to a club that was open until 10am. These spaces, that are queer spaces were there for me and I felt part-of something.  

“I fell into chemsex, I had hard drugs on tap on my phone, and I knew what to do and where to get what I needed. It became transactional.”

Chemsex is a term coined by activist David Stuart describing gay men and men who have sex with men (MSM) having sex under the influence of psychoactive drugs.

People take part for different reasons. Some people take part in chemsex to feel less inhibited and to enhance pleasure. Other reasons for taking part are associated with feelings of stigma and issues around self-esteem.  

Drugs used in Chemsex facilitate sexual activities lasting several hours, sometimes entire days, usually involving multiple sexual partners.

There may be individuals who are not men who have sex with men, who use drugs as part of their sex lives, but the term chemsex refers to a practice with a specific history and culture.

Hedonistic

“There is nothing more hedonistic, nothing more risky or dangerous. It isn’t just irresponsible, it is dangerous. And all I could think about was I want more drugs.”

Thomas recalls the after-feeling, “I’d get home, and I’d want to shower for three hours.” He says he felt confused watching friends enjoying this lifestyle freely, without the same consequences.

“My life was so chaotic and so unmanageable; I was falling apart. I had just found out I had contracted HIV I was both shocked but numb but, in a way, I was waiting for it to happen due to how I was living my life.”

It seems that Thomas was becoming aware that the initial freedom he had felt had slipped away and had dissolved, distorted and moulded into sex clubs and chemsex and drink and drugs.

He remembers his friends being worried about him, and trying many times to help, but the help they were offering wasn’t the help he wanted. He tells me he wanted to carry on getting drunk and using, and for all his problems to just go away.

“I would push boundaries so far, then everything would fall apart, so I would claw things back ever so slightly, but then I’d push the boundaries even further, so it was falling even more.

“I was fighting every single day; I was going 100 miles an hour. I used to wake up in the morning and be disappointed that I was still alive.”

Homeless

It wasn’t long before he became homeless. “I was in a city that made me feel invisible. I looked terrible and underweight, you could see my ribs, I had a beard as there was nowhere to shave, and long matted hair but I remember I had an insatiable need for someone to find me attractive because I felt so bad about myself.

“I could rub the grime off my skin because I wasn’t washing.

"I had lost the will to live. Which has a poignant meaning. I had lost the will to live, and I had burnt my bridges. I thought, I give up, I can’t get out of this, I’m done.

“For the first time ever, I prayed for help.”

Thomas’s family had no idea what was going on and his contact was irregular and distant.

“I don’t know how or why it happened, but my sister called one day, and I took her up on the offer of picking me up and bringing me back to my hometown.

“Sadly, I couldn’t stop drinking there and burnt those bridges too.”

An ultimatum

From the sidelines, Thomas’s friend could see what was happening and gave him ultimatum. He could stay with her, but he had to get help for his addiction. “She said I had to go to The Living Room, and I had to do the referral right then, now. She drove me here and waited outside whilst I had my assessment. I told her, they want me to go straight into group to start my treatment - and that was the beginning.”

He believes if he stayed in the city for any longer, he would have been in hospital or dead.

Recovery

Throughout his year of treatment at The Living Room, group counselling gave him the space to look deeper into his addictions and the root causes of them.

“It wasn’t easy, but I spent a year in that treatment room, and it opened my eyes, mind, heart and spirit in ways I didn’t think possible.

“I look back now and realise the person I used to be was very strong. I got through some traumatic experiences on my own. I didn’t kill myself when I wanted to. I did what I needed to do to survive.”

I found my people

He compares that solitary time to being in group at The Living Room with 15 other recovering addicts and people around him supporting and loving him.

“My recovery friends are my people. I thought I’d found the connection before, but it was unhealthy for me, and it fed my addiction and left me more isolated.

“I believe the opposite of addiction is connection.”

Thomas has now set up an LGBT fellowship meeting in his hometown, the place he felt isolated to start with.

Advice for others

I ask Thomas if he has any advice for someone in the same situation as was. He shows me a picture of himself at one of his lowest points. He looks unrecognisable and completely different from the vibrant, glowing and healthy person sitting across from me now.

He says, “I just want to give him a hug and tell him everything is going to be okay.

“To anyone struggling, there is an answer. This isn’t it. This isn’t all of it. And you don’t have to feel like this. It will take time, and it will take work, and you don’t have to be perfect. But there are people who not just want to help, but who would love to help and who can help.

“No one is telling you what to do, no one is saying you must do it all now, but you don’t have to live like this. You don’t deserve it.

“It took coming to The Living Room and the people around me to show me that I wasn’t a bad person, I was just a sick person. I did horrible things in my drinking and using but I always say my addiction isn’t an excuse, it’s an explanation.

“I’m now doing things I’m passionate about and I really am living a life beyond my wildest dreams.”

If Thomas’s story has had an impact and you would like help to begin your recovery journey, we can help. We offer free, time-unlimited day-time group therapy to adults living with addiction in Hertfordshire.

If your life is being affected by somebody else’s addiction, we can offer you free group counselling in our Family Carer’s Groups.

Recovery is possible. Since 2000, we have successfully helped over 7500 clients into recovery from an addiction that was ruining their lives and the lives of those around them.

Call us on 0300 365 0304 to find out more or self-refer online.

 

*Names have been changed to protect anonymity. 

 

LGBTQIA+ stands for:

• Lesbian
• Gay
• Bi+
• Trans and non-binary
• Queer and questioning
• Intersex – also known as variations of sex characteristics (VSC) or differences in sex development (DSD)
• Ace and aro

The 'plus' represents other experiences and identities not named in LGBTQIA.

You may use one or more of these terms to describe yourself. Or you may use other terms. Stonewall's glossary includes many more.

You may also feel like you don't need to define yourself with any terms. Or that these terms don't represent your unique experiences and needs.